Author Archives: Cheri L. Jones

About Cheri L. Jones

As a young woman, teetering from a failed suicide, shattered by a lifetime of domestic abuse and sexual violence, Cheri Jones arrived in Asheville, North Carolina, the place where she would build a life of quiet solitude. Now a mature woman, staring down an age she never dreamed of reaching, and having thoughtfully examined her experiences over time, Cheri has developed her distinctly southern voice as a writer and poet. In childhood she created stories to cope with the realities of physical and emotional abuse. Now she strives to share the struggles of countless others by translating ugliness into art. Her poetry is fresh and unexpected. Cheri’s aim is to gently guide you through a scary place. Even when shining light on dark situations she reminds us of the ever hopeful power in active choice. She writes from her very real life. She imbues characters with her own heartfelt emotion. She trusts her personal truths to connect with her readers. With the poems on her blog Stimuli, Cheri concentrates her intuitive perception and clever wit on subjects as diverse as a cat’s inner life and the foibles of aging. She writes with a passion for nature and with a penchant for the music of southern conversation. Cheri’s work has been featured in Rapid River Arts Magazine, in the anthology Clothes Lines, and in Western North Carolina Woman. She publishes her newest poems on her blogs: proximity, Stimuli, and Violations.


Carry your zen within, your light undenied – not hidden, not found. We’re the same. You. Me. Leave your sin. Begin now and live alive – connected, unbound, aware, pardoned, free.

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He gave us beauty and truth, all we ever need to know about love, loathing, delight, guilt, faith, doubt, madness, and cruel lonliness. Golden, dark-eyed, robust, and pale – hero, villain, and mystery – shy, brash, he compelled us to … Continue reading

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tortured artist

As Virginia Woolf, Nicole Kidman rests an iridescent cheek against cool moss to become the soft stillness of a forestbird caught in its death. How perfect, how wretched this notion – suicide. It is not violence which haunts the dark … Continue reading

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Defeated by a merciless wind, veiled in a glitter of ice flecked snow, frozen yellow blooms can rise again and live as if storms will never blow.

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3 birds 1 suicide

She dragged from her bed, sagged to the kitchen. She sighed at the cat, then sat with her flakes. She had a headache (always did lately). It just never stopped. So (flakes flushed) she dressed. She moved in Dad’s house … Continue reading

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Loss, failure, even smallest betrayal – emotional blows more devastating than bloody, deadly, hand to hand combat. Crushes spirit – will to struggle, survive. Lie still. Catch your breath. Crawl till you can stand. Steel your spine. Open your heart. … Continue reading

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What do we know?

He tried hanging and broke the rope. He shot himself in nearby woods. He died alone. He decided. He finished it. We don’t know why. What answer soothes? Any? None. Nil. We can’t know why – never know why. He … Continue reading

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Embrace all of life, and fear neither pain nor loss. Make beautiful pearls.

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We ask for love – only love – acceptance without judgment. We judge – refuse to accept. We break our own hearts, hurt our own feelings with our dreamy teary eyes. We withhold, secrete, pretend. We isolate our true selves. … Continue reading

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You are not alone. If I can make you feel that I am not alone.

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